Page 32 of Pack Rivals: Part Two
“Jesus Christ, Bea, you scared me to death. I didn’t hear you coming.”
“I’m not surprised. You’ll have no eardrums left if you listen to your music turned up so high.”
“Sorry,” she says, “I was trying to block out the sound of your cries.” She frowns. “It was … it was pretty tough to hear.”
“It was pretty tough to endure.”
Courtney launches forward on her seat and squeezes me tight, sniffling against my neck. My tired bones crack but I hug her back, feeling even more human for it.
When she pulls away, I notice how exhausted she looks, shadows ringing her wet eyes.
Her gaze flicks over my face and my body and then she sighs dramatically in relief. “Is it over?”
I nod. “At least I think so.”
“Thank god.” Courtney flops forward, her head resting on the counter.
I guess I wasn’t the only one who suffered through this heat.
“Were you here the whole time?” I whisper.
She peeks up at me. “Of course, I wasn’t going to leave you.”
I hug her again. Then jerk back, remembering I am a gross mess. “What about your work?”
“I took some leave.”
“Paid?”
Courtney shrugs in a way I know means no.
“Thank you,” I tell her, hoping one day I’ll be able to repay the favor.
“I was so worried about you …” Courtney says, her eyes brimming again. My cousin always puts on this tough show, I’m not used to seeing her more vulnerable side.
“I’m okay now,” I say, managing a genuine smile for the first time in days. “Although freaking starving. Is there anything to eat?” I glance towards the refrigerator. “I’m about to keel over from hunger.”
“Yes.” Courtney jumps down from her stool and hurries to the fridge. “There’re loads. What do you fancy?” She starts pulling out dish after dish from the dimly lit interior. “Meat loaf? Lasagna? Chicken soup? Apple pie? Pancakes?”
“Did you make all this?” I ask, coming to examine all the food, my stomach rumbling even louder.
Courtney snorts. “You know I can’t cook.” She unwraps foil from the meatloaf and switches on the oven.
“Did you order it all then? Court, you really shouldn’t have spent money on all this.” Especially when she’s just lost a load of her pay.
“Oh I didn’t buy it,” she says, absentmindedly as she slides the dish into the oven.
“Then where did it all come from?” I laugh. “The food fairy.”
Courtney’s cheeks blush red and she hurries back over to her book, busying herself with turning down the corner of her page.
“Courtney?” I ask, suddenly feeling suspicious. “Where did this food come from?”
“I can’t tell you,” she snaps, slamming her book down on the counter. “Here, I’ll make you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich while we’re waiting for the meatloaf to warm up.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” I say, lifting my palm. “Why can’t you tell me?”
“I promised him.”
